The court was alive with whispers. Dancers spun in the candlelight, nobles mingled with veiled secrets behind glittering masks, and somewhere amidst it all, Seraphina stood, poised in a sapphire gown that hugged her curves like a second skin. The gown shimmered like the midnight sky, and her mask—laced with silver threads—only added to the mystery in her eyes.
She was here on a mission, not to be seen.
But she felt his gaze.
Fenris.
She could sense him before she even saw him. That dangerous pull—like gravity but fiercer—tugged at something primal inside her. Her eyes searched the crowd until they landed on a tall figure near the balcony. Masked, regal, and still like a predator waiting for the perfect strike.
Their eyes locked.
He moved.
Every step he took toward her sent a shiver racing down her spine. She tried to turn away, to disappear into the sea of gowns and perfume and politics, but he was already there—close enough for her to feel the heat rolling off his skin.
"You look... unrecognizable," Fenris said, voice low, dark, and edged with something dangerous.
"You say that like it's a bad thing," she replied, refusing to step back even as her breath caught.
"I never said it was." His gaze dipped to her lips. "But even a mask can't hide the fire in your eyes, Seraphina."
Her pulse fluttered.
She hated how easily he disarmed her, how his presence drowned out every warning in her head. He was the enemy. The Alpha who ruled with secrets. The man responsible for the chain of events that had cost her everything.
And yet, standing this close, all she could think about was how badly she wanted to touch him.
"You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice suddenly strained.
"Neither should you."
He leaned in, his breath brushing her ear. "You keep walking into danger like you belong in it."
"And you keep trying to save me like you care," she snapped, eyes blazing.
His expression shifted, mask or not. For a moment, the weight of truth hovered between them.
"I didn't want this," he murmured. "But fate… fate has bound us tighter than blood."
Before she could respond, the air shifted. An explosion of growls and snarls echoed from the shadows of the hall. Panic broke through the elegance of the evening as masked guests screamed, scattering like frightened birds.
Seraphina reached for her blade tucked into the folds of her gown, but Fenris was already in motion—grabbing her wrist, pulling her into a hidden corridor before the chaos reached them.
She fought him. "Let go! I can handle myself."
"I know you can," he growled. "But I'm not letting them touch you."
They burst into an abandoned chamber. Moonlight flooded the room, and it was there—in the quiet, in the silver glow—that she turned to face him, chest heaving, fury in her eyes.
"What are you hiding, Fenris? Why do you always know when danger is coming?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he reached up slowly, and peeled off his mask.
Seraphina froze.
The face beneath was not entirely unfamiliar—handsome, strong, commanding. But there was something else… something unearthly. His eyes were glowing faintly, a storm of silver and blue. His jaw was tense, but his expression—raw and open—made her heart stutter.
"You're not just a king," she whispered. "Are you?"
"No," he said quietly. "I'm something far more dangerous."
She took a step back. "You… you're not even—"
"I'm bound by the curse that ties our bloodlines together. Bound by the same fate that's forcing us into war. And the more I try to fight it, the more I want you."
His words shattered the last wall she had built between them.
Before she could stop herself, she reached for him—fist curling into his cloak—and dragged him closer. Their lips collided like fire meeting storm, fierce and desperate. His hands were in her hair, her arms around his neck, bodies crashing together with the kind of hunger that burned through denial.
But even in the kiss, she knew the danger.
They were enemies.
And yet… something darker than fate was binding them now.